


The Falcon's Rose

by RisingPhoenix



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingPhoenix/pseuds/RisingPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Catherine of Aragon gave up battling for Mary's rights to the Throne? What if Mary remained a princess and was the King's beloved pearl when he married Anne Boleyn? What if Mary had the chance to have a happy marriage with children? What if Mary can continue her life as a princess of England with all its wealth and power on one condition; to marry George Boleyn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**June, 1530**

Her mother had failed her.

The sainted Queen Catherine of Aragon had given up in her fight against King Henry VIII in his pursuit to marry the harlot, Anne Boleyn.

Princess Mary could not believe her ears once the Spanish ambassador, Eustace Chapuys sadly informed her of the news.

"No," said Mary stubbornly. "My mother would never have given up! She...she hates the harlot! She will never give up my rights willingly! She was bullied! She fought for my legitimacy all this way! Why would she stop now? It doesn't make sense!"

"The King asks me to give you this," said Chapuys, handing her a rolled up parchment.

Mary's hand shook as she took the roll of parchment.

She glanced at it and Chapuys nodded encouragingly.

Mary unrolled it, feeling as if her life was being peeled away like the layers of an onion. She paled as her blue eyes skimmed through it rapidly.

"My mother has truly given up," she said, closing her eyes in defeat. "She accepted an annulment only on the grounds of consanguinity and renounce her title of 'Queen of England' and will be willing to acknowledge Anne Boleyn as the King's wife after their marriage, and will write to her nephew, Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, to cease in his efforts to support her. As a gesture of friendship and appreciation, my father, the King, has generously agreed to endow upon her the title and style of 'Her Royal Highness, Princess Catherine, Duchess of Lancaster' with the annuity of three hundred thousand pounds and three palaces of her own choosing. She will always have a place in Court, and will have precedence over every woman in Court with the exception of the Queen, me, and any daughter the Queen will have. He also said that part of the divorce agreement, I will be permitted to see my mother whenever I wish, and upon my mother's death, I will become the Duchess of Lancaster in my own right and will inherit her palaces and fortune. On one condition?"

"What is it, Princess? Your acknowledgement of Anne Boleyn as Queen?"

"No, Excellency. Not yet..." Her lips tightened.

"Princess Mary, what is it?"

"The King states that I will remain a princess of England and the heiress presumptive until the birth of his prince, and I will be allowed to see my mother and inherit her possessions only if I marry...if I marry Anne Boleyn's brother, George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford." She spat the last words out ferociously as if they were deadly poison.

Chapuys stared at her, astonished.

"That is the whore's doing!" he said angrily, his usual calm, expressionless face broken into rage. "She knew if she fails to have a son, her nephew, a Boleyn, will become King of England! You should be married to a royal prince, duke of king! Not a mere viscount!"

"George Boleyn wouldn't be a viscount," said Mary quietly, her eyes running across the parchment again. "If I accept marriage, the King will make him the 1st Marquess of Ormond and grant me a new title for my...obedience towards him."

"Princess, you _cannot_ marry the whore's brother. What will your mother say?!"

"She would have known about this. She chose comfort to hardship."

"Your lady mother chose the best for you."

"I will never be queen. The King will have his precious son, and I will be cast into the shadows and in the eclipse of the Boleyns. The King will be so proud of his children with the harlot, and he will forget all about me and I will be killed by the harlot's father." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"The whore's mother only had one son. Perhaps if luck will hold, the King will have only daughters with his whore, and who will the people approve more of? A princess with royal blood on both sides, or a princess who is descended from merchants?"

Mary smiled wanly and laughed weakly.

"The King will never marry me off to a prince," she said, her voice betraying no fear or worry, but instead revealing a tone of queenly diplomacy and truth. "He is afraid a royal husband will invade England on my behalf upon his death. Married to his whore's brother will cement me in England. My mother loves England and does not want to see the kingdom in ashes."

Chapuys nodded, impressed with her words.

"My mother gave in because she wanted England prosperous and with no bloodshed," said Mary, regretting her earlier words of accusation towards her mother. "I will respect her wishes and ensure it was not in vain. I will marry George Boleyn and have his children. If I have to curtsey to Anne Boleyn and address her as queen, I shall do so, but deep in heart, I will always see my mother as the true Queen of England. I will always see her children as bastards. _Always_."

"I will always be by your side," promised Chapuys. "I vowed to serve Queen Catherine, and now I will transfer my services to you."

The doors opened and a smug-faced Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire strutted in, accompanied by two grim-faced guards.

"Your Royal Highness," he said, bowing mockingly. "Your Excellency."

"Lord Wiltshire," said Mary stiffly.

"The King has sent me here to deliver him your answer to the letter he had given His Excellency to pass on to you earlier."

"Give me another five minutes."

"Very well, Your Highness. If I may speak, be quick about it. The King is not a patient man, and he _is_ expecting an answer, Princess." He could not wait to hear the Spaniard's daughter's stubborn, harsh remark about it. He wanted to threaten her _so_ badly...

Wiltshire bowed and retreated.

Immediately, Mary turned to Chapuys.

"Tell the King I accept his terms," she whispered, in case Wiltshire was eavesdropping at the door. "I will marry George Boleyn and I accept the harl-Anne Boleyn as his future consort. Go! Tell him. I do not want Wiltshire to have the satisfaction of hearing me say it."

Chapuys nodded and left through another door.

Approximately five minutes later, Wiltshire returned, haughtier than ever.

"Your answer, Your Highness?" he said at once.

"I have already given it, Lord Wiltshire," said Mary sweetly. "His Excellency is already on his way to inform the King of my answer. You are too late, Lord Wiltshire."

She was delighted to see the smirk vanish from his face.

He shot her a furious look and stormed off, seething in anger at his stupidity for missing the one opportunity to see the King's proud daughter in tears and humiliation.

_She will pay for this!_ Wiltshire vowed, as he headed towards the throne room. _She may be the King's daughter, but it won't be long before I put that bitch in place. Grovelling and scrubbing the grounds at my Anne's feet as nothing more than a bastard._

* * *

King Henry VIII sat languidly on his throne, dreaming of his Anne at his side and the two of them surrounded by a large brood of red headed sons, all as strapping and healthy as he was in his youth. Of course there would be daughters, beautiful girls with hair as black as a raven's like their mother's, the enchanting Anne Boleyn.

The perfect family.

_His_ perfect family.

"Your Majesty."

He blinked and saw Chapuys bowing in front of him. He was not a bit surprised that the Spanish ambassador would seek audience with him. Probably to hopelessly convince him to take back Catherine on the orders of the interfering Charles V.

"Excellency," said Henry VIII, prepared to zone out once he begins his almost weekly lecture. "What does the Holy Roman Emperor send you to say to me this time?"

"I bring a message from your daughter, the Princess Mary," Chapuys answered, watching the King's eyes widen in astonishment. "She wishes me to convey to you that she accepts the terms. She has said she is willing to marry George Boleyn if she keeps the title 'princess of England' and remains your heiress presumptive until the birth of a prince of Wales. She will retain her position in the line of succession, ahead of your future daughters."

"Of course. That is part of the deal. Is my daughter truly willing?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Upon my word of honour, the Princess Mary has agreed to marry Viscount Rochford as the obedient daughter she is."

"Obedient daughter, eh? If my daughter is willing and obedient, I wish for her to sign this." He handed him another scroll of parchment.

Chapuys glanced at it suspiciously.

"Do not fear," said the King pompously. "It is nothing about Mary's illegitimacy. Before she marries Viscount Rochford, she must sign this paper, stating that she renounces the Pope as nothing more than a Roman bishop, and she acknowledges me as the Head of the Church of England. Once you return this to me, only then will I see her as my true daughter of my blood and marry her to Lord Rochford. If she refuses to sign it, I will send Wiltshire to take her to the Tower."

Chapuys's blood ran cold as his grip on the blasphemous parchment tightened.

"The Princess Mary must sign this?" he found himself stammer.

"Yes, Your Excellency," said the King, smirking as he saw Chapuys's composed expression falter. "That is all. She must agree that the Pope is nothing more than a Roman bishop. I can assure you that George Boleyn will ensure my daughter to be a devote Protestant in no time. You will not need to fear about a loss in religion for my daughter, Excellency."

Chapuys bowed silently and trudged out, more depressed than ever. In a flash, he found himself pinned against the wall and face to face with Wiltshire.

"I will not forget this!" hissed Wiltshire, before he could even speak. "I will send you back to that impoverished village you were born in, Chapuys! You may be a supporter of that Spanish cow and her daughter, but I will not allow you to keep strutting around like the peacock you are! How dare you deliver the message to the King?!"

"I hope you see the irony in that, Lord Wiltshire," said Chapuys dryly. "Threaten the Princess as much as you like, but it will not be forgotten."

He pushed Wiltshire away and walked off.

Wiltshire entered his chambers, more irritated than ever.

Waiting for him were his daughters, Lady Mary and Anne, his son George, and his brother-in-law, the powerful Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk.

"How was it?" inquired Norfolk. "Did she refuse or cry?"

"I do not know," muttered Wiltshire angrily. "That Spanish ambassador delivered the message before I could stop him. At least she will be soon married off to George, and we'll be able to keep a closer eye on her. I cannot wait till the day she is only Mary Boleyn, Viscountess Rochford."

"The King has a soft spot for his ah...his 'Pearl'," said Norfolk slyly, pouring himself a cup of fine French wine. "Even when George marries her, she will remain a princess of England and heiress presumptive to the throne. If that was not part of the deal, Catherine of Aragon would never have stopped fighting for her darling daughter's rights."

"What?!" spluttered Wiltshire, as red as a drunkard.

"You heard me. You should be pleased!"

"In what way will I be pleased?! I am robbed of the satisfaction of seeing that Spaniard's daughter kneel at my feet for my blessing!"

"Your daughter will marry the King of England, and your son and heir will marry the King's currently only daughter. If Anne happens to die in childbirth along with the child, and the King joins her shortly, the Spaniard's daughter will be queen, and your son will be her king. Either way, one of your children will be king or queen of England. There will always be a Boleyn-Howard on the throne."

"And what? The Princess will keep antagonising me?!"

"You seem to be the one antagonising her! Think about if, Wiltshire. If you continue being hostile towards your future daughter-in-law and she happens to become queen, what will happen?"

"I will be thrown in the Tower." He was bitter. Trust Norfolk to think of everything! "Anne _will_ have a

son! She is perfectly healthy, beautiful, loved by the King...nothing will stop her having a son."

"I will!" said Anne fiercely, tossing her black hair to one side. "I will bear the King's son and he will be the next great king of England!"

Wiltshire nodded approvingly.

"That isn't enough!" said Norfolk sharply. "You may be fertile, but we need to take a page out of the Stanleys' book. We need a foot in each camp! You have clearly shown enmity to Princess Mary, so now we need a replacement! We need a Boleyn to be friends with her in case our plans go awry. Childbirth cannot be conquered by any woman no matter how hard she tries. If Princess Mary somehow becomes queen, we need to remain in her good books."

"I will," volunteered George, eager to meet the princess his father vehemently hated. "She is my betrothed, after all. She will despise Anne as she will replace Catherine of Aragon as queen, and our Mary was her father's mistress. I will be her husband, so wouldn't it make sense if I befriend her _before_ we are married?" He looked around.

Norfolk nodded slowly in agreement.

"You?" said Anne uncertainly. "I need you here..."

"You have Mary," George replied with ease. "I will be with you once we jump safely over the Princess Mary milestone. Let us say the Princess falls for my charms. Perhaps then, she will be more...sympathetic in our cause to Anne as queen. Of course it will be hard, but I'm sure I can conquer it. You will thank me for this, dear sister. You too, uncle, father."

"Very well," said Norfolk dismissively. "Go and find her. Chapuys will be convincing her to sign that document by now. You better succeed, George."

George nodded and left, carrying the bag of Boleyn hopes on his shoulders.

He approached Mary's chambers and paused.

He only saw her from afar in Court feasts and never had the chance to speak to her. What kind of princess was she?

He knocked on the door hesitantly.

It flew open, almost knocking him to the ground.

"Lord Rochford," said Chapuys coldly, watching him stumble. "How surprising you are here! Did the King send you, or your clever uncle? Are you here to poison the Princess? It will do you no favours, you can trust me on that!"

"Excellency," said George, recovering from his initial shock. "I am here to see Princess Mary. I know I am one of the last people you want to see, but please. I suppose you rather see me more than my uncle or father? They will not take insults lightly."

"And you do?!" Chapuys fired at him.

"Chapuys, who is it?"

Reluctantly, he stepped aside and George faced the Princess herself.

_She is quite pretty_ , he thought, as he bowed politely. _Not as beautiful as Anne, but still pretty. Especially her auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes. She isn't Anne, but any man will find her attractive and an enchanting girl of fourteen. Only a fool would call her ugly._

"Lord Rochford," said Mary icily, her eyes fixing a glare on him. "What do you want? I already received a visit from your father, and now from you. If you are a gentleman, give me a minute to contemplate signing away my soul to live in a Court full of Howards and Boleyns or die."

George noticed a tear splattered parchment on the table beside her.

"You are a Catholic," he said, stating the obvious. "This must be...horrible for you."

"Kind of you to say so," said Mary sarcastically, crossing her arms. "And what are you? Born a Catholic and now a Protestant under the influence of your sister?"

"Please, Princess. I am not here to argue. I know we are to marry, and I want to tell you something that may influence your decision over this."

"Oh, so I am to trust you know, am I?"

"No. You hate me, I can understand that. I understand your pain of being separated from your mother, and forced to make a terrible decision. I promise you that once we marry, you will not have to see my uncle or father. If you want to live away from them and refuse to acknowledge yourself as a Boleyn, so be it. I will do anything to make you happy. Even if you don't believe me now, trust me that I am a man of honour. This parchment you have to sign...God will forgive you. It is your life at stake. When we live as husband and wife, I will allow you to pray as a Catholic. Do me one favour; be cordial to Anne. She is my dearest sister. Can you keep a secret, Princess?"

Mary raised an eyebrow.

"I am still a Catholic," said George quietly. "My sister is a Reformist and her head is filled with new ideas in religion, but I only pretend to agree with her. I am a Catholic as much as I was when I was a babe. On my life and soul, I swear it is true."

Mary nodded, calmer than before.

"I can pretend..." she said softly.

"Yes," encouraged George, who had no qualms against the poor princess. "In public, you are the obedient follower of the Church of England, in private, you are the devout daughter of Christ. Excellency, do you agree?"

Speechless, Chapuys managed a nod.

"I still hate you," said Mary, shooting George a poisonous glare.

"Very well," he said simply, to her surprise. "If you wish, I will leave you to your own devices after our marriage. I only wanted to tell you that my uncle and father do not control me. I will not allow them to harm you in anyway, and it will be best for you to sign that blasphemous parchment before the King sends you to the Tower. Good day, Your Highness."

He bowed gallantly and departed, leaving Mary and Chapuys staring after him, both of them donning expressions of uncertainty, bewilderment and admiration.

"What will you do, Princess?" Chapuys said finally. "Believe him?"

"He sounds genuine..." said Mary uncertainly. "My mother has given up and it is now up to me. This is a fair deal, and if George is a Catholic like he said he is, I think our marriage will be mutually happy. It is his sister I hate, not him. He is right though...I must sign this to live. Can you tell my mother? I rather her hear it from you than a Boleyn or Howard."

Chapuys nodded.

"What if she remarries?" wondered Mary. "If she marries and has a son, will he inherit her fortune or will I do so?"

"You will," said Chapuys promptly. "If she has any children in her remarriage, they will be given titles and land at the King's generosity. You are her heiress apparent."

"If I marry George, he will have my inheritance once my mother dies."

"No. That will not happen. We will deal with inheritance later. For now, you must return to the King's good books. As a wedding request, ask for the King to sign a letters' patent, stating that your mother's inheritance will only descend through her blood descendants and if inherited by a female, it will not be inherited by her husband."

"Will the King allow that?"

"You are his daughter, and it will save your mother from an early poisoning at the hands of a servant bribed by a Boleyn. Wiltshire and Norfolk are both equally ambitious, and if the whore does have a son, the two of them will turn their attention to making their children equally rich. I can assure you that their first goal is for George to steal your mother's fortune. Remember Edward IV of England's two brothers? They married the Neville heiresses and robbed their mother of her fortune. Sign this and I will give it to the King immediately. If you take too long, you will find it in the hands of a Howard."

Mary nodded. With a gloomy sigh and feeling a depressing grey cloud settling over her, she picked up the quill and scrawled her name on the poisonous paper.

"My life is over," she said sullenly, rolling it up and thrusting it at Chapuys. "The harlot's family rule England. If I die by poisoning, tell my mother that a death via poisoning will point directly at the Boleyns rather than disappear like the Princes in the Tower."

Chapuys nodded, bowed and left.

Three steps Mary noticed ended numerous conversations she had that year.

Ensuring the doors closed securely behind her, she knelt in front of the large cross nailed to a wall in her room and began praying. She prayed for the good health and safety for her mother, the strength and guidance to live through the troubled times to come and one thing she hardly receives. The much sought after gift of love.

She prayed for hours, ignoring the murmurs of her ladies.

Mary wondered if she inherited the 'saints' knees' her great grandmother, Lady Margaret Beaufort had often boasted of possessing. It had been hours and she felt no knee pains.

_I must have made the right choice_ , thought Mary, blinking in a hazy daze. _Or was this all a horrible nightmare and my parents are still married?_

"Princess Mary. The King summons you to his presence immediately."

Her heart pounding, she turned around and almost cried in relief as it was only her father's regular messenger, not a Howard or Boleyn.

"Your Highness?" said the messenger, confused.

"Nothing," said Mary, praying a quick thanks that the Boleyns had not began their regime yet. "I will go and see him at once. He is in the throne room, is he not?" With a puzzled nod from the messenger, she continued. "Are you to accompany me?"

"Of course, Your Highness," answered the messenger, stepping aside for her to pass. "The King has ordered for you to be under the utmost protection at all times."


	2. Chapter 2

**June, 1530**

The ex-Queen Catherine of Aragon prayed serenely in her diminished chambers, hoping her decision to cease fighting for her daughter's rights was the correct choice.

Mary needed to survive, and to do so, she must have the King's favour or she will be ripped mercilessly to shreds by the greedy Howard and Boleyn wolves.

"Your Majesty, letters from His Excellency and His Majesty."

She rose and took the two letters, nodding at the lady-in-waiting with thanks. She opened the first and her heart sank like a rock in the royal pond.

Mary had willingly signed the acknowledgment of the King as the Supreme Head of the Church of England and agreed that His Holiness was nothing more than a Roman bishop who had no rights to command a king of England. Catherine guessed by now, Mary had already agreed to marry the whore's brother. She knew it was her fault for resigning the fight.

She should have continued like any good mother would.

She opened the second and her heart leapt back in place.

_The King has kept his promise!_ Catherine thought delightedly. _I am invited to Mary's marriage with George as a princess and Duchess of Lancaster! George will be given the marquessate of Ormond while his father will be the Duke of Wiltshire. I suppose it is luck that Mary will remain in England and close by my side, rather than in a strange Court in the other side of the world. I hope Mary is happy in her marriage. I heard goodness about George Boleyn and I hope it is true. Perhaps it is only Anne Boleyn that is the wicked child, not George or poor Mary Boleyn._

"We must pack," she told her ladies a few seconds later. "I am expected at Court and it will not be a long journey to Richmond Castle. We will depart in an hour so we can arrive there before this evening's feast, so time is everything ladies!"

She had not been at Court for quite some time.

She wondered how she'll be received.

The Boleyn faction would loathe her beyond comprehension, but the other nobles-like the Seymours-would receive her with open arms.

Bags were hastily packed and a carriage was ordered. It had been decided that only Catherine and three of her ladies-one of which was her confidante, Maria de Salinas-would go to Court, while the rest would remain in the current manor until further notice.

"Are you excited to return?" asked Maria, sitting opposite Catherine in the carriage. "The courtiers have not seen you dance in many years!"

"My time for dancing is over," said Catherine, with a deep sigh. "The King will want to dance with his wife-to-be. I do not doubt that once our annulment is fully finalised, he will marry her without a second glance at me. Either that will be before or after Mary's wedding with George. I hope she is happy as a marchioness and in line to be a duchess."

"At times like this, you must think of yourself as well as your daughter."

"What do you mean, Maria?"

"Your daughter is growing up. She cannot remain under your protection forever. She must learn to tread carefully in Court and to be watchful under the King's eye. You done the right thing, signing over your rights as queen consort. You have one thing a queen does not have?"

"What is that? An early death from a broken heart?"

" _Freedom_."  Catherine's heart skipped a beat as she heard that word.

"Freedom..." she repeated, the word strange on her tongue. "What about you, Maria? Why are you here, serving me? You have a daughter, who is now the 12th Baroness Willoughby de Eresby in her own right! Should you not be with her?"

"I have chosen to serve you instead," said Maria loyally. "My daughter is safely with your Mary, and your Mary needs all the support and friendship she can get. She will enjoy Court, and the King will find a suitable husband for her."

"That is well and all, but she will miss you. Once the King's affairs settle down and we find a permanent residence, I will relieve you from your duties for a few weeks and I will expect you to visit your daughter and spend time with her. It will be your responsibility to find a kind, suitable spouse for your little girl rather than the King."

"You do not have to-"

"I insist, Maria. If you leave your Catharine in the King's hands, the harlot will marry her off to one of her Howard relatives. Believe me, this is the rise of the Boleyns just as it was the rise of the Woodvilles many years ago. I can see it happening."

"Very well, Your Majesty-"

"I am 'Your Highness' now. My queenly days are over."

Maria nodded obediently. She was not pleased that her mistress must give way to the Boleyn harlot, but she was certain God's hand was in it.

He wanted Queen- _no_ , Princess?-Catherine to step down from the throne for the good of England, and if that is what He wishes, his pawns obeyed.

"What will they call you?" said Maria out loud, blushing as Catherine raised an eyebrow at her sudden outburst. "I apologise, Your Highness. I could not help but think it inconvenient for courtiers to address you constantly as 'Duchess Catherine'."

"Of course," said Catherine dismissively. "I understand your concern, Maria. If it makes you feel better, you may call me 'Infanta' like you did when we were in Spain. I believe in England, we call 'Infanta' a princess. I suppose I must get used to being called 'Duchess Catherine', as it does not sound right to be addressed as a 'princess' with my Mary as one. Whatever the King wishes to address me as, the Court will follow. Believe me in that, Maria."

_I will never accept that harlot as queen_ , thought Maria savagely. _I do not care if my Queen Catherine does, but I will never do so! One day Queen Catherine will be the rightful queen at the King's side, and I will do whatever it takes to return her there, with Princess Mary as the true and only heiress of England and the future Queen Regnant of England!_

* * *

Equally anxious, the King paced nervously around his study, wondering if inviting Catherine back to Court was the right choice.

After a bitter fight, she willingly stepped down for Mary's sake, and she is her mother...it seemed right for her to be attending her own daughter's wedding.

Of course Anne wasn't happy.

"You want to invite _her_ to my brother's wedding?" she said spitefully as the King told her the decision one night. "She will ruin it! The people will cheer her as queen!"

"It is my daughter's wedding too," Henry VIII reminded her gently. "Catherine is no longer queen, and in a few months, you will be my one and only queen. No other woman will take your place. How would you feel if your mother was refused permission to attend your wedding? Mary will be your stepdaughter in a matter of months, and it will always benefit you to befriend her rather than antagonise her. She will also be your sister-in-law in a few days' time. Do it for me, Anne? Please?"

Anne considered it. "Very well, Henry. Just for you. On one condition?"

"What?"

"Make Catherine my lady-in-waiting."

"Anne! That is outrageous! She is an Infanta of Spain! Her nephew is the Holy Roman Emperor and he will declare war on England if he discovers his aunt is a lady-in-waiting!"

"You are afraid of a man nine years your junior?! You are a king, not a mere knight! Catherine is in England, under your rule, not in Spain, Austria, or wherever her nephew's domains are! She will be my lady-in-waiting or I will forbid her to attend my brother's wedding!"

"No!" the King's eyes flashed dangerously. Anne stared boldly back at him, a tinge of fear running through her spine. Did he still carry an old flame for Catherine? If he did, Norfolk will obliterate the both of them! "Catherine will attend as an Infanta of Spain and the Duchess of Lancaster! I will not risk England falling under Charles V's wrath! You are still the Most Honourable, Lady Anne Boleyn, 1st Marquess of Pembroke, not the Queen of England! You will address Catherine by her proper title and show her the respect she deserves! You will be respectful and kind to Mary, and if either of them die in the wedding celebrations, I will hold you responsible and bed you right there and discard you on the streets! Do you understand, _Lady_ Anne? You may not like either of them, but for me, you will! They are family, and you will love them like family!"

Anne looked defiantly at him, sparks flying from her own black eyes.

"I will not!" she said viciously. "Catherine is nothing to me! If she bothers to curtsey to me, I will spit at her feet and kick her!"

_Slap!_

Anne's hand instantly went to her stinging cheek, her confidence melting from her. She had never been slapped before-especially from the King.

"You. Will. Go," repeated the King, caressing Anne's cheek (the one he had hit). "You will show respect towards them both, or I will remove the marquessate of Pembroke from you. If you treat Mary as a bastard, your title will go as well."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said Anne meekly, fuming with rage and humiliation. "I spoke out of term, and it will not happen again."

The King nodded, satisfied.

"You will have the privilege of choosing three men to be awarded Order of the Garters," he promised, kissing her on the forehead, his anger vanishing. "Whoever you wish to be knighted with such a prestigious order will have the honour of it! Perhaps I will give you an earldom or elevate you to the position of duchess before our marriage. Come. We must go and greet Catherine. She will be arriving in the courtyard at any minute now."

He offered her his arm and taking it, the two walked out of their chambers, a happy smile plastered on Anne's face. The King did not need to pretend to be joyful. In truth, he was pleased to see Catherine return to Court. Not that he missed her, but to smooth over relations with Spain.

"The Duchess of Lancaster has arrived," Norfolk informed them.

"Excellent," said the King uncertainly. "Show her in."

The doors opened and Catherine gracefully walked in, sweeping the King a perfect curtsey and earning gasps and whispers from the surrounding courtiers. She rose and nodded at Anne, who was obliged to curtsey, to Maria de Salinas's satisfaction.

"Your Highness," said the King tightly. "I am pleased you can arrive back at Court so quickly. I hope your journey was well and...uneventful."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," said Catherine smoothly. "I am grateful you invited me to be a guest at _our_ daughter's wedding. I cannot thank you enough for it."

"Good. You will stay with the Court?"

"For a few weeks perhaps, but I'd like to return to a more permanent location. I am not as young as I was before." Anne inhaled a sigh of relief.

"Norfolk, fetch George," ordered the King. "Duchess Catherine, would you like to meet your future son-in-law? I can assure you that Mary approves of him."

Catherine nodded enthusiastically.

"Will you visit Spain?" said Anne sweetly. "You must miss your home, _Your Grace_."

"No," said Catherine politely, ignoring her last few words. "I already bid farewell to Spain many years ago. I do not need to return. My home is now England. I consider myself an Englishwoman rather than a daughter of Spain. Congratulations on your quick betrothal, Lady Anne. I hope you bear England many prosperous sons."

A chill crept through Anne's back.

Not having a son was the reason why Catherine was discarded. What if she fails her duty and finds herself on the same path as Catherine? The King had already shown his violent nature, and Catherine was treated finally due to her royal status and willingness to cooperate. What would happen to her? She had no powerful relatives abroad!

For a second, she wondered if her hatred towards Catherine and Mary was wrong.

Would she ever need them as...allies in the future?

_Never_ , thought Anne, clenching her fingers together as she forced a smile. _I will have a dozen fine sons and another dozen beautiful daughters. The King will love me for eternity and praise me for my fertility and skills in childbearing. Skills that Spanish cow clearly lacks. After I give Henry our sons, Mary will kneel until her knees crack and kiss my feet._

The last thought sent thrills through her mind.

Wouldn't it be satisfying to see a princess with royal blood in her veins from both sides of her family kneel and pledge loyalty to the daughter of a mere earl-now duke?

"I thank you for your...thoughtfulness," smirked Anne. "However, I can assure you that the King and I will have plentiful sons. Enough for one to be the Prince of Wales, one to dedicate his life to the Church of England and a dozen to be fine soldiers and scholars. We will have a nursery full of them. We will also have daughters. Many daughters, all married to the most powerful kings, dukes and princes in all of Christendom while your daughter will be nothing more than a marchioness. What do you say, Duchess? I imagined Mary as the perfect lady-in-waiting for either myself or my first daughter. Can you imagine her scraping clean the chamber pots and scrubbing the floor till her hands and knees bleed? Once my many daughters marry royals, she must give way to them."

The King stared at her with horror.

His beautiful, clever Anne-! Those cannot be her words!

"I am glad you are so confident," said Catherine, who remained surprisingly pleasant. "I look forward to the christening of your many sons and daughters. Ah! Who is this? You must be Mary's betrothed, the 1st Marquess of Ormond!"

Walking in, George bowed to his future mother-in-law, who looked at him kindly and with some sort of interest he couldn't describe.

"Lord Ormond," greeted Catherine, pleased with George's physical features and deciding that it wouldn't be long before Mary would fall in love with him. After all, he was quite handsome-for a Boleyn-and his eyes showed signs of sincerity and honesty. Traits his sister did not inherit. "You are the lucky man who will marry my daughter!"

"Your Highness," said George, careful not to call her 'Your Majesty'. "It is an honour to meet you. I have heard...great things about you, and I find myself incredibly fortunate to be the Princess Mary's husband and your son-in-law."

Norfolk restrained himself from an ugly scowl.

He wished his son, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, would marry the Princess. Even though the Boleyns were related by blood, he wanted more. His daughter Mary, was set to be engaged to the King's acknowledged illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy, 1st Duke of Richmond, and he had hoped for his heir to marry the Princess and for him to control her.

With the Princess under his roof, he would ensure her utter submission to his family. However, with George Boleyn as her husband-to-be...

"Where is my daughter?" said Catherine, glancing around.

"In her chambers," said the King promptly. "Praying I suppose. After I created George the 1st Marquess of Ormond, she requested permission to retire and pray for good fortune for her future. I agreed. It won't be long now before she presents me with a grandson!"

Anne paled, to Maria's delight.

"Is anything the matter, Lady Anne?" she said innocently. "Are you unwell?"

The King whipped his head around and stared at Anne anxiously.

"I am fine," said Anne hastily. "A little um...tired. That is all."

"Nervous for the big day, I suppose," said Catherine mildly. "As am I. Perhaps it is time for supper? The journey was uneventful, yet tiring, and I feel a slight bit peckish."

Anne nodded in agreement, a little grateful at her nemesis for changing the topic.

To both Anne and Catherine's surprise, Henry offered _Catherine_ his arm, and the two of them walked grandly to the feasting hall, a spectacle astonishing many nobles along the way. Unhappily taking second place (again) to the same woman she bore hatred towards, Anne quickly grabbed George's arm and followed the King and Catherine, her head held high and proud.

"That was foolish of you," George hissed into Anne's ear. "What possessed you to boast of your fertility and your...plans for Princess Mary?! You're lucky the King didn't execute you!"

"The _Lady_ Mary," said Anne scornfully. "She is to be your wife, and she will be Lady Mary Boleyn. I will

ensure she becomes a lady-in-waiting. Can you believe it?! He is walking with that Spanish bitch!"

"Ssh! Anne! Do not speak so loudly! You are not yet queen! The King said that even after Mary marries me, she will always be a princess of England. I know our uncle stressed loathing towards Catherine, but I think you should make peace with her."

"Why?! She means nothing to me!"

"She will be related to you through my marriage with Mary."

"I can elevate you to a dukedom, give you estates, wealth, power, anything! Just don't make me sue for peace with that bitch. I will give you anything you want, if you can convince your future wife to stay at Court as my lady-in-waiting."

"No!" George looked at her, scandalised and a little angry. "I will not have a princess of England as your lady-in-waiting. If you dare insult her or her mother again, you will lose me as a supporter and a brother. I love you as a brother should, but this cannot carry on! If you do not apologise to Catherine, I will go to the countryside with Mary immediately after our wedding. I will not remain in a Court where I constantly see you attempt to rip out her throat."

"You are my brother! Why aren't you happy for me?!"

George said nothing.

How on earth can he explain his mixed feelings for the poor, suffering princess to his heartlessly ambitious and cruel sister?

"You are on her side?" said Anne, horrified, stepping away from him. "No...please tell me that isn't true, George! You have not abandoned me now! I convinced the King to make you a marquess! If it wasn't for me, you would've remained as a viscount! Don't leave me! You owe me!"

"I don't owe you anything," said George, more coldly than he intended to be. "The King does not wish for his daughter to be a mere viscountess and elevated me to a marquessate. You did nothing. In fact, I distinctively remember you trying to convince the King that the highest I should go is an earldom. If my affianced was not Princess Mary, you would have wanted a dukedom for me. Until you make peace with Catherine and Mary, I consider myself no longer your brother."

He nodded curtly to her and walked away, no longer feeling hungry.

Anne stared after him, confused.

What had happened to the brother she loved and trusted?

It seems a betrothal with a princess had changed his personality!

"Why are you not at the feast?" George turned and bowed as he saw Mary looking at him, clinging to the door of her chambers. "You were invited."

"Your Highness," said George, smiling stiffly at her. "Forgive me, I was startled. I found my stomach unwilling to embrace more food at the moment. What about you? There will always be a place at the table for you, Your Highness."

"How was my mother?"

"Very well, Your Highness. The Duchess of Lancaster is more cordial to my sister than she was to her. I guess the Duchess approved of me, but it is hard to tell. Your mother has an excellent poker face that even I cannot imitate!"

"She has not been harmed?"

"Harmed, Your Highness?" He seemed perplexed.  "Why would she be harmed?"

"Your uncle for one, does not seem keen to have her around."

"He is not foolish enough to hire an assassin to kill your mother on the way here. I agree he has motive, but Anne isn't married to the King yet, nor am I to you! The irony is that if he orders your mother's assassination now, his plans would all fail."

"You are right. I am too cautious I suppose."

"Nonsense, Princess Mary! Caution is needed here in Court!"

Mary smiled shyly at him and he smiled charmingly back.

"This may sound stupid," he admitted, taking a step forward. "I know we met under rough circumstances and you have every right to hate me and my family, but I found it clearer now than ever before. Ever since I saw you, I loved you. Even when you were running around in the gardens, being chased by a whole flock of governesses fearing execution for abandoning you, I found you enchanting. You may still harbour feelings of hatred towards me, but I don't care. I said this before, but I mean it now. Even if I get disinherited from my family for truly loving you, it'll be worth it. I'll give up all my worldly possessions to taste the sweetness of love."

"I love you too," confessed Mary, looking away.

"You do?"

"Indeed, Lord Ormond. At first, I was suspicious of you. I thought you only wanted to marry me to control and break me. I was actually prepared to fight you all the way. I thought you were the same as Anne Boleyn. Made of nothing but ambition. Clearly, you are a different Boleyn. One with a heart of pure gold. I'm happy my mother approves of you."

"As am I, dear Mary. I can call you that, can't I? I am tired of formalities and I cannot wait till we are seen together as husband and wife."

Mary felt tingling in her body as he spoke.

Was it the handy work of love?

"I am afraid," she said softly. "There will always be other Howards and Boleyns wanting my death and the death of my mother. I am frightened, Lord Ormond. What if your father poisons me in our wedding celebrations? I will threaten any of Anne's children."

"You will never be harmed, nor your mother, dear Mary. I can protect you both until the day I die, only on one condition."

"What is that?"

"You call me George."


End file.
